


Growing Pains

by Kendrene



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alien Biology, F/F, First Time, Fluff and Smut, G!P Kara Danvers, Girl Penis Kara Danvers, superpowers are involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:59:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: Kara is haunted by plenty of demons and sometimes she needs to walk her problems off. But what happens when she can't leave them behind, no matter how fast she runs?She stumbles into Cat Grant - that's what happens.ORThe one in which Cat gives Kara relationship advice and they end up something more than friends





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was requested by Quietpersona, which I thank for the challenge.
> 
> Please heed the tags and if it's not your cup of tea, move along. If you want to stay and have tea, this is my first Cat/Kara fic and all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Happy Reading
> 
> \- Dren

There are some nights in which Kara Danvers likes to wander. 

They are quiet nights - often cold and rainy - nights too harsh to be spent outside by the majority of people. Even criminals seldom use this sort of night as cover for a misdeed, and so Kara takes advantage. 

She wanders, both with her body and her mind. She walks until her feet are frozen blocks of ice inside her shoes, or until she is soaked through to the bone with rain. She doesn’t care for an umbrella, since she doesn’t get sick anyway. Besides, Kara likes the feeling of the rain slicking her skin, turning her hair a darker shade of blonde, twisting it into knotted ropes that sway heavily on either side of her face. 

And when it doesn’t rain, she still enjoys it, breathing in big lungfuls of the city’s air. It smells of a million different things - car fumes and freshly cut grass, or the mouth-watering aroma of the pizza place on the corner between Jefferson and 1st, which is open round the clock. 

Sometimes she even stops for a slice of greasy pepperoni. 

When Kara walks like this, she likes to pretend she’s someone entirely new - not Kara, nor Supergirl - but perhaps a country girl, dazzled by her first glimpse of National City. It works for a while, but her life always finds a way to catch up to her. 

This is especially true for her life as Supergirl. 

There are too many places that remind her of the fights she undertakes daily to protect the City’s inhabitants. She passes by shadowy corners in which she surprised would be robbers lying in wait for an unsuspecting victim, a liquor store with its window still taped together after she threw a thug through it. One particular corner in which the curb is still smeared a rusty red from a shooting to which she arrived too late to make a difference. Clark had encouraged her to be her city’s hero, but he’d failed to mention how devastating her failures would be. 

Perhaps he’d thought that if she had known, Kara would have reconsidered.

Kara manages to ignore the memories for a while, but then her personal landmarks become too numerous to count. 

Or to escape. 

Before she can realize it she’s started running, not really knowing where she is going. She retains enough command over herself to move at normal speed, but she imagines she is still a sight to see. Particularly because Kara is sure she looks like she’s running from  _ something _ . 

She doesn’t want to stop and think  _ who _ she’s running from, but no matter how fast her feet hit the pavement, the thought catches up anyway, 

Kara knows she’s running from Mon-El. 

It’s a figure of speech, because the street behind her is dark and empty, echoing only with the sound of her own footsteps, but it is a truth nonetheless. 

She comes to a skidding halt, for some reason hating that she’s not winded, loathing the fact that despite running as hard as a human person would she feels no knifing pain into her side.  Kara wonders if the fact she isn’t physically touched by things that would leave another person bent double in blinding pain, also affects the way her heart behaves. 

Fear lames her more effectively than a marathon ever could. What if her heart is different? What if Kara is - because of her biology - unable to know what love is? She thought she loved Mon-El, and her brain transitioning to the past tense is a blow that caves her stomach in worse than a punch. 

She staggers to the side, her shins hitting a bench onto which she folds like paper cruelly crumpled by the weight of a truth she’s been ignoring for too long. 

If this is love that she feels, then why does it make her miserable? 

Kara remembers reading about love growing up, first on Krypton on nights in which she’d pretend to be fast asleep before sneaking into the archives to read of things her mother found unsuitable, and afterwards on Earth, with a flashlight trained to a book’s page while she huddled under the blanket. 

Her adoptive parents had let her explore their extensive book collection without much restraint, and even though most of what she’d found had been about science, there was enough romantic literature to fill her head with questions. Question she’d pestered her older sister with. Alex used to roll her eyes, but in the end always tried to answer.

She would go to Alex now, except her sister seems very much caught up with her own heart problems. 

Kara sighs and leans her back against the hard granite of the bench, tilting her head upwards and closing her eyes. A light drizzle had started up while she ran, and she lets it kiss her brow, shivering at the cold touch of the rain slowly dampening her skin. 

Mon-El says he loves her, yet his arms closing around her feel more like a prison, rather than the comforting place she is sure a lover’s embrace is meant to be. He keeps telling her that he wants to protect her, but whenever he tries she feels diminished.  _ Controlled _ . 

Kara has tried to chalk it up to his upbringing - after all Daxam and Krypton are entirely different places - and when her throbbing heart has kept her up at night, she’s told herself to give him time. 

He’ll acclimate - being far from home is never easy - and then things will resemble the stories she used to read in the Danvers’ house. 

But her heart feels like it’s just a beat or three away from breaking, and Kara doesn’t know how much more time she can let pass, before what she thought would be  _ always _ becomes  _ quite enough _ .

The rain beats down on her harder, plastering her hair to her forehead and to her shoulders. She hugs herself - more as a means of comfort than to ward off the cold - and as she watches on puddles form on the cement, the city lights mirrored on their agitated surface like fractals of a diamond, she realizes where her feet have taken. 

This part of National City is a miracle of glass and steel, manicured patches of greenery adding a touch of color to the skyscrapers grasping at the heavens like man-made fingers. Her attention focuses on the apartment complex across the street, twenty-five stories of luxurious suites built with the city’s upper class in mind. 

Her former boss Cat Grant lives there, and for a moment Kara is tempted to walk up to the doorman she sees standing to attention near the entrance, and ask if Mrs. Grant would see her. 

Cat always had time for Kara in the past, and while their start had been undoubtedly rocky, Kara now looks at her former boss like a mentor. 

She readily admits that she’s flourished under Cat’s tutelage, even though the woman’s way of teaching has sometimes hurt her deeply. But Kara knows, that if she had not wanted to impress Mrs. Grant so badly, she wouldn’t be half the woman she is now. 

Yet surely Cat has better things to do than listen to her heart problems.

An open umbrella enters her field of vision, shielding her from what has become a veritable downpour. 

“I thought it was you.” As if summoned by her thoughts, Cat herself is standing next to the bench, a curious look on her face. “You’ll catch something, Kara.” She reaches out and places a hand on Kara’s shoulder. “Come on. You can wait for the rain to stop in my apartment. Or I can call you a driver?” 

Suddenly shy, Kara wants to say that it’s no bother. On nights like these she is suspended between the two sides of herself that make up the whole - a coin carelessly spilled from someone’s pocket that chances to land on its edge and rolls onto the pavement, tethering miraculously on the brink of a tumble. 

She squirms on the bench, rain chilling her skin as it seeps through her jeans, and thinks that she must be the stick thrust through the carefully arranged wheels of Cat’s evening plans. Her former boss must be acting out of propriety rather than real kindness. 

Kara can’t imagine that - being able to choose - Cat would decide to spend the night with her. Not in this way, like a  _ friend _ .

“Come.” If Kara has learned something from her time at CatCo, is that the woman standing next to her has no time nor patience for indecisiveness. “You keep sitting there doe-eyed, you’ll have a cold tomorrow or worse.” 

Cat’s voice cracks down her spine worse than it did back in the office, and Kara finds herself climbing to her feet meekly, the other woman’s arm sneaking around hers to keep her firmly under the umbrella as she half-pulls, half-drags her towards the building’s front door. 

Obsequious and smiling the doorman holds the door for them, going as far as to call them the elevator. 

“I had my own built in when I bought the penthouse,” Cat confesses as they ride up to the skyscraper’s top, “I  _ really _ can’t abide using the same elevator as the other tenants.” 

A small smile tugs at the corner of Kara’s lips. She remembers her first day at CatCo, in which she’d taken Cat’s private elevator up to the woman’s office simply because nobody had mentioned that she shouldn’t. 

“I remember that you can’t,” she can’t help but quip back drily, “you almost fired me on the spot for doing just that.” 

“The only thing in your favor was you had already brought my latte.” Cat chuckles as the elevator comes to a stop, “although it was barely lukewarm.” 

The elevator’s doors whisper open, letting them out on a corridor that is soft, golden light and tastefully veined marble. The mahogany double doors at the far end are a statement to influence and power, and Kara scoffs at herself for having wondered how Cat managed to have a private elevator added to a pre-existing building.  

Because of course she should have known that the woman possesses that kind of pull. 

By the time they step inside Cat’s penthouse, Kara is shivering. It is weird, since she rarely feels heat and cold, but perhaps the shudders making her tremble are to be traced back to the storm raging inside her. 

Cat eyes her critically, and Kara reverts back to being the latest on a long string of interns. The first day at CatCo she had gotten looks of pity and half-whispers and after a bit of probing she’d managed to find out that Cat was famous for making her assistants cry. Some of her so-called colleagues had placed bets on how long she’d last, and Kara had taken great pleasure into having Wynn put some money in for her, only to walk away with her pockets full a couple of months later, when it had become clear Cat had no intention of firing her. 

“I’ll get you some dry clothes to change into.” Cat finally announces in a tone that brooks no argument, “make yourself comfortable.” 

Somehow the invitation sounds like a threat and Kara finds herself perched on the edge of Cat’s immaculate couch, back ramrod straight and hands folded in her lap.

“I’m happy to see you don’t slouch anymore.” Cat returns moments later, handing her clean clothes. “These should do.” She points to the far end of the living room, where a hall opens leading deeper into the penthouse. “Guest bathroom is that way. Go on, I’ll fix you a drink in the meantime.” 

On the way Kara can’t stop her eyes from straying, Cat’s house as reflective of the woman as her office back at the media company was. Clean lines of metal and polished wood, except here and there Kara spots hidden bits of her host shining through. Beyond a door left ajar she catches a glimpse of a bedroom, and her smile - which has lingered since their little back and forth in the elevator - widens when she sees a stack of well-thumbed books piled high on the carpeted floor near the nightstand. 

There is more - an elegant flower composition on a slender plinth outside the bathroom that screams Cat’s name in the perfect way it is arranged - and a scarf, abandoned in a heap upon a chair against the wall. Kara passes by and falters, a trace of Cat’s perfume tickling at her nose. For a reason she can’t name her heart quickens, thumping in her chest absurdly fast, like an escaped horse finally on the loose, and she has to swallow hard to calm her nerves, shaking her head ruefully as she steps inside the bathroom.

Changing into dry clothes is a relief she didn’t know she needed, even though what Cat offered doesn’t fit her all too well. But after washing her face and getting a good look at herself in the mirror Kara feels like an entirely different person. 

Or rather she feels more like  _ herself _ . 

She leaves her damp clothes behind, draped over the bathtub’s edge and quietly pads back to the living room. Cat is sitting on the couch and when Kara appears she nods approvingly.

“You look like the Kiera I know now.” She gestures to the coffee table where two glasses of what to Kara’s keen senses smells like scotch wait for them. “But from the way I found you I think you could use something stronger than hot tea.” She pats the empty spot next to hers and, after Kara’s seated, hands her one of the glasses. 

“So, Kailin.” Kara has given up on correcting Cat over her name, and the endless variations the woman manages to come up with now amuse her, when in the beginning she felt less than nothing because of them. In time she’s simply learned that Cat’s brain is far too busy to remember an assistant’s name, especially with her former boss used to switching interns as often as everyone else changes socks. “What bothers you?” 

Kara flinches. She hasn’t worked with Cat for so long she’s forgotten how direct the woman has the ability of getting. 

“I…” She grimaces around the first sip of the scotch, its taste far too burning than what she is used to. She opens her mouth, wrangling her mind for the right words, but when nothing is forthcoming she snaps it shut with a loud clicking of teeth. 

“It’s a man isn’t it.” It’s not a question but a statement, and Kara drops her gaze, hands tightening dangerously around the glass. She hears it crack - not noisily enough for Cat to notice, but at its constituent levels, and knows that with just a bit more pressure it will turn to nothing but glittering dust in her palms. 

Slackening her hold takes her supreme effort. 

“If he upsets you to the point it drives you to sit in the rain Karen, he isn’t worth your time.” Cat drains her glass and puts it back on the table, placing her hand on Kara’s knee - her touch oddly comforting. 

“Four husbands were enough to teach me that,” Cat continues leaning closer and, when she gathers enough courage to shoot a guarded look her way, Kara discovers that her face is warm in a way she has seldom seen, “never stay with someone that makes you miserable.” 

“So what should I do then?” She marvels at how broken her voice sounds, and her heart seems to shatter into a thousands pieces as other words press against her lips, itching to get out. But there is a gulf between knowing what is right for you, and getting round to  _ doing it _ . 

“Find somebody that doesn’t.” It is the simplest piece of advice she’s ever been given, but also the truest, Kara reflects. There’s only so much change a person can willingly put themselves through before they break under the strain of trying to fit within a shape that isn’t theirs. 

Kara looks up, and when she finds Cat mere inches from her, lungs which her sister says act like they are made of steel forget to fill. She gets lost into the warm embrace of green eyes brimming with genuine concern and realizes, perhaps for the first time since she’s known her, how much Cat truly cares about her. 

The woman sharing the couch with her has folded away her business-like demeanour like one would do with a jacket far too heavy for the season. 

And all of a sudden Kara cannot think past the other woman’s heady perfume or the warm hand still resting on her knee, and she does the most stupidly insane thing her mind has ever dreamt of. 

Kara crosses the few spans that divide them, and kisses Cat Grant.

Cat’s lips are soft and warm against her own and Kara lingers, her eyes fluttering close of their own will as the chill which has been clinging so stubbornly to her skin is made to flee. 

Her mind stutters, thoughts guttering out like the flame of a dying candle and Kara realizes what she’s done only when Cat’s mouth falls open against hers, returning her kiss delicate and feather-like.

She gasps and jerks - no, she  _ flies _ \- back, eyes wide, face slack with shock when her shoulders hit the far wall. 

Cat merely stares. 

“Am I such a bad kisser, Kara?” She asks and inclines her head, her voice faraway and threaded through the mounting roar of blood in Kara’s ears.

She swallows, but can’t speak, bones that could cut diamonds turning fragile and paper-thin. Her legs are weak and jelly-like, which is all the more ironic if one considers they have kicked holes through cement under different circumstances. Kara’s saving grace is noticing that Cat has used her right name - for the second time tonight - and the thought jump starts her back to life. 

Past the shock of having exposed herself through such a blunder, past the fact that she’s actually just kissed Cat Grant the same way she’s done in countless dreams she’s conveniently pretended to forget come morning.

“Fuck.” She mutters just under her breath, and the profanity feels good in a sort of dirty way. But Cat is still waiting, the shadow of a smile now gracing her lips, and while Kara thinks she’s an exceptionally good kisser, she’s not quite ready to admit that to her face.

“How long have you known?”

She settles for asking a question of her own, even though she knows that Cat isn’t so easily distracted or derailed. 

“I admit you had me fooled in the beginning,” Cat lounges, legs crossed at the ankle and her smile widens, “and yet I also think I’ve always had my doubts. A paradox, isn’t it?” She laughs, and just when Kara is prepared to flinch at mockery, she sees her former boss shake her head in self-deprecation. “You were so adamant we do Supergirl justice, went as far as to talk back when I was tossing around ideas for her name.” Cat stands and stalks closer, hands on her hips in a throwback to the times in which the two of them squared off inside her office. 

“You, the fresh intern with a fashion sense that hadn’t graduated high school was talking back to  _ me,  _ even though you knew perfectly well I could tell you to march out of the building.” Cat laughs. “I almost did… and then I started to wonder why, exactly, you cared enough to risk your job.” 

Kara wants to smack herself for being such an idiot, because Cat Grant - a woman who built an empire in a profession still entirely dominated by jealous, ancient men in suits - is far too brilliant not to see through what is, admittedly, a very thin disguise.

“Don’t make that face,” Cat chastises lightly, “it’s unbecoming.” She is close enough to touch now, but despite wanting to, Kara is incapable. 

When Cat bridges a gap that for her it’s insurmountable, fingers smoothing out the frown that’s digging a harsh line between her eyebrows, Kara’s first instinct is to flinch away. 

To leap for the window and smash through, while cursing the fact that no matter how sharp the pieces of glass are, she is beyond their ability to hurt her at a time in which she’d like nothing better than to feel entirely, helplessly human.

Cat doesn’t stop, her fingers tracing the curve of Kara’s disbelieving eyebrows before they ghost down her cheeks, until the woman is cupping her face. Her hold is gentle, but firm - not something meant to restrain her, Kara knows - and yet she finds herself unable to tear her face away as she initially had wanted. Cat’s eyes are verdant pools that darken with something she can’t name as they meet hers and, when the silence grows so loud her ears begin to ring from it, Kara forces a gulp down her dry throat and speaks. 

“What now?” 

What now that I know you know I’m Supergirl she wants to ask, but falls short, too afraid of the answer. Kara is scared that just like everyone else Cat will expect her to be the hero even when she’s not wearing her suit. Alex would deny it but she’s like that too - always waiting for her to make the selfless choice, because it’s the right thing to do. 

Because Supergirl is a paragon of  _ good _ . 

Besides Cat, the only other person who ever understood she’s made up of two different sides is Lena Luthor, but sadly there’s such a heap of history between their ancestral lines that no amount of water under the bridge can wash it away. That’s why - despite the fact that they are dear friends - they always sort of end up tiptoeing around each other. They tread on ice so thin that it could break at the first misstep, too acutely aware of the bad blood between their families. With Cat there’s none of that baggage, and Kara cannot help but be a bit relieved.

Cat blinks and pulls back slightly, looking for all the world like she doesn’t understand the question.

“I haven’t divulged Supergirl’s real identity so far and am not about to do it now, if that’s what you’re asking.” She says at last in a clipped, almost offended tone. Then her voice turns silken. 

“If you were talking about this particular evening however, I’d very much like it if we kissed again.”

Kara’s stomach drops and she’s reminded of the first time the Danvers took her to an amusement park. She had been forbidden to fly and use her powers by her father at that point, and the rush of the rollercoaster - the way the tight turns squeezed her middle and pushed her heart right up her throat - had been the next best thing. 

She feels the same excitement now, a smattering of wings that flutter madly against her ribcage, accompanied by a drop of copper-tasting fear. Kara hopes that Cat won’t comment on the fact she’s rubbing clammy hands on the fabric of her borrowed sweatpants, and when the woman simply waits for her reaction she dips her head minutely in a nod.

She could hold an entire plane up in the air. 

She can do this.

Still, the words burn her tongue to the point she fears she’d find it black with soot if she looked in a mirror.

“I’d like that too.” 

Cat pulls her in with the same care of someone handling something delicate and precious - a lost heirloom found by unexpected luck at the back of an old closet. Their lips brush, haltingly at first, and then Kara steps into Cat’s space, their mouths chasing one another as they kiss for interminable minutes. 

With her eyes closed - Kara doesn’t remember when that happened but takes it in stride - all she can concentrate on are Cat’s hands. They feel warm and dry against her cheeks, and though they are far more fragile than Kara’s own, she falls apart with ease under their touch. 

This woman who is a force of nature by the merit of her character rather than physical strength dismantles her. They break apart for breath and Kara rests her forehead against Cat’s, aching and bone-weary. She doesn’t think she’d be able to save the both of them if a fire roared up to life around them, but it dawns on her that she doesn’t have to.

Cat hasn’t asked anything of her. She’s told Kara what she’d like - that much is true - but she’s not demanded it. There is no need for her to don her suit here, and she doesn’t have to be the Kara Danvers that she shows to the outside world. 

She is a lost, tired girl and Cat accepts that the moment her hands move from her face to slide down, resting on her sides. 

“I have you.” Cat’s tone holds the steel-wrought reassurance of someone who’s entirely aware of what they’re doing. Their fingers tangle and Kara is tugged towards the couch, where Cat sits down, pulling her into her lap. 

“I have you.” Cat repeats, her hands squeezing firmly around Kara’s fingers. She pulls herself free gently and brings her arms around Kara’s back, mapping soft touches along the edges of her shoulder blades. 

Kara sighs, finding refuge in the dip of Cat’s warm collarbone, and for a time she listens to the rain hammering relentless against the living room’s windows. 

She is surprised to find the same kind of peace she feels only when, overwhelmed by the cries of people she often can’t unhear, she descends deep into the bowels of the D.E.O headquarters where Alex and J’onn have set aside a room for her exclusive use. 

Within her Sanctum the silence is absolute. It fills her up to bursting, dripping cool along her bones, and she drinks of it as greedily as a man who has spent long, scorching days lost in a desert. 

Cat’s apartment isn’t as staggeringly quiet, but painting its sound-based geography in her mind is a reassuring practice Kara thinks she could get used to.  

There is Cat’s breath for starters, delicate puffs of air that graze down Kara’s cheek, and her heartbeat - a hint of which she feels as she presses her lips timidly to Cat’s throat. The apartment’s heating system cycles on and off at intervals in a subtle whoosh that is the perfect counterpoint to the drumming of the rain against the window panes. 

She lets herself drift for a while, not really thinking about anything, and loses herself in the tantalizing touch of Cat’s hands over her back and shoulders. 

Kara embarks into a nervous exploration of her own, growing bolder when Cat sighs and presses closer, placing soft kisses over the top of her head. She pulls back a fraction, enough that her hands can feather down the front of Cat’s button up shirt, while remaining within the comforting circle of the woman’s arms. 

The position is a bit awkward considering she’s sitting sideways on Cat’s lap, her legs pulled up atop the couch, but Kara tries to make the most of it. Cat’s shirt is sheer enough that she can feel the warmth of her skin beneath and, whenever she finds courage enough to touch more firmly, little aftershocks spread from her fingertips upwards, making her hands tingle. 

When she raises her gaze, she finds Cat’s eyes half-lidded and heavy, her mouth slightly open as she draws in a shuddering inhale. Kara watches mesmerized as the tip of Cat’s tongue flicks out to wet her lips, the sight so arousing that she can’t hold back the tiniest whimper.

She wants… 

She isn’t sure of what she wants, but she knows that, whatever it is, it lays within the woman’s arms. She is supported by the unshakable faith of a pilgrim who seeks an hidden altar in a forest, knowing that the prayers they carry in their heart will finally be answered when they kneel to it. 

Cat brings one hand around to stroke her cheek, the other finding its way under Kara’s shirt in a caress that sends ripples up her spine. 

Something  _ snaps  _ inside her, violently enough to make her teeth throb and her eyes ache. 

Kara freezes.

“W-wait.” She stutters. She’s the one they call the Girl of Steel, she’s faced the worst riff-raff that the galaxy has to offer, and yet the brush of Cat’s skin against her own is enough to push her towards the verge of tears. 

She craves it, with a desire so desperate and unrepentant it makes her want to scratch her skin and force her ribcage open. She wants to lay in Cat’s arms, heart exposed and thumping and - perhaps for the first time - she has a bitter, heady taste of the fragility intrinsic to the act of being human. 

She wonders how the people around her can endure, built as they are to break easy or fall apart with age. How it is possible for a human heart to feel so much emotion without its vessels bursting open, when it’s engineered towards its own natural destruction, and not to weather countless nuclear holocausts as her own. 

“Nothing has to happen that you don’t want, Kara.” Cat murmurs against her ear, voice soft like Kara has no memory of earing. 

“No! I mean…” She clears her throat. “I want this, I just...I’ve never…” Kara fidgets, looking at everything but Cat’s face. As she thinks about the image she’s projecting of herself she cringes, and it’s a battle to not tuck her head defensively between her shoulders.

Cat is so cultured, so  _ lived,  _ and even though Kara comes from an entirely different world she feels like a simpleton in comparison. 

And it doesn’t matter that she read everything she could get her hands on as a child - including entire treaties on how other species engaged in sex - in the mental journal she keeps about herself she describes herself as wholly inexperienced. 

“You’ve never had sex.” Of course Cat is blunt to the point she results cutting but, contrary to what Kara had feared, there is no amusement in her voice. 

She bites her lower lip and nods, tense like a bowstring. 

“Well then, perhaps something more comfortable than the couch is in order for your first time.” 

There is humor now, of the dry kind Cat favors, but her eyes remain kind and she’s pulled her hands out from under her shirt, so that Kara knows she means it when she’s saying that she’s ok with not going any further. 

It comforts her and a slow grin spreads across her lips. Silently she stands and, without giving Cat time to react, she picks her up effortlessly, relishing that she can show off her powers with a somewhat selfish goal. 

“Where to m’lady?” Kara asks with teasing chivalry, the butterflies inside her stomach reduced to manageable size.

Cat, who has remained unfazed throughout, throws her head back and laughs, the full-bellied sound of someone witnessing a marvel in the making. 

“I like confident Kara.” She smiles around the words and tightens her arms around Kara’s neck. “And would suggest my bed, unless you have a better idea?” 

Perhaps it’s overdoing it, but Kara allows herself to rise a few spans above the ground. She hovers for a moment, delighting in the fact that Cat’s breathing hitches higher with genuine surprise.

One thing is to know that Supergirl can fly, another to experience the breaking of all the laws of gravity one has been taught about since childhood. 

It takes a lot of concentration to fly like this, countless miniature adjustments to her balance as Kara navigates her way around the apartment’s furniture. It’s not the breathless supersonic travel that allows her to span continents, but the controlled flight of a plane approaching a landing strip.

There’s a trick to levitation - for Kara it has always been associated with the numbered tempo of sheet music - and in the ordered laws of her mind’s rituals she finds the strength to ignore the growing wetness between her legs, at least until Cat is deposited safely on the bed. 

Kara knows what comes next - her eidetic memory makes it impossible to forget anyway - but she’s never experienced it. Constructed at cellular level to succeed and be useful to their society, Kryptonian bodies are created to adapt should the need to mate outside their society arise. 

It’s encrypted in their genome and Kara’s seen it when - deemed old enough to understand by her aunt - she’d been taken to the vaults where Krypton’s future was kept. She thinks it’s weird that, having shied away from natural birth practices, her society would resort to them to preserve itself should all else fail. Then again, she couldn’t bring herself to consider people who built children as if ordering an item off a wishlist anything other than hypocrites. And all their rules and legislations had not saved them in the end. 

“Kara?” Cat’s preoccupied tone makes her realize she’s been hovering next to the bed long enough to make it strange. 

“I’m sorry. I was...thinking.” 

About a burnt world and its dead practices. But that, Kara doesn’t say. 

She lowers Cat to the bed with all the care that she can muster, the woman’s hands tugging at her sides and urging her to follow. Kara does, fear and wonder turning the inside of her chest into a warzone, and she loses herself in the ocean green of Cat’s eyes.

Cat Grant is going to be her first lover.

She is going to make love to Cat Grant. 

Stealing Alex’s erotica novels when they were younger isn’t helping her to feel up to the task. 

She doesn’t know whether Cat can sense her hesitation, but she’s pulled in for another kiss - so fierce and all consuming it leaves her lungs empty of air. The change comes over her, so swift she only notices when she feels a growing hardness press into Cat’s thigh. 

She’s sure that Cat has felt it too, but there’s no pulling away - no faltering. 

They kiss like people dying of thirst, and when Cat’s hands find their way under her shirt again, Kara doesn’t stop her. Deft fingers find her breasts - she left her drenched bra back in the bathroom with the rest of her clothes - and Kara moans, the sound swallowed by a swirl of Cat’s tongue around her own. 

Cat squeezes, finds her nipples and teases them between thumb and forefinger until they stiffen against the palm of her hands. 

Kara gasps, buries her face against her lover’s shoulder, feelings overwhelming her and wiping her mind blank. When Cat’s legs part in such a way that she can lay between them, her hips roll forward and she hisses at the friction, lungs burning with desire as if she was breathing gasoline. 

Supernovas are born behind her eyelids with an explosion of such bright light that Kara momentarily loses sight, and as Cat’s hips cant up to meet her own, pressure becomes suddenly unbearable - despite the fact the barrier of their clothes is still between them. 

Kara burns with the same fire of a spent satellite plummeting to Earth, and in her veins blood turns molten-gold in need.

“I want… I need…” She pants raggedly against Cat’s sweaty skin and her hands fist into the sheer material of her lover’s blouse, tearing it apart with ease in a spasm of uncontrolled strength. 

She’s instantly embarassed at a display she did not mean, but what Kara chides herself for fills the eyes of the woman beneath her with unfathomable hunger. 

Yet, despite the gleam sharpening her gaze with the same unflinching light of uncut emeralds, her hands remain soft, even as they travel down Kara’s middle. 

Even as they dip below the waistband of pants that don’t fit all too well.

Cat’s fingers feel cool as they skim along her length, or perhaps it is she who is burning far too hot for any scale and measure. 

Kara is barely aware of the dance that leads them to wear nothing but their skin, clothes discarded into an haphazard collection somewhere on the bedroom’s floor, but she finds herself kneeling between Cat’s legs, her lover beautiful as she makes no attempt to mask the way she rakes her body with a long, smoldering glance.

Cat is breathtaking and entirely naked.

Shyness overcomes her, and Kara tears her gaze away, teeth sinking into her lower lip. Her hands curl into shaking fists as she resists the urge to throw her arms across her nakedness, not because she dislikes the way she looks, but for fear that she’s entirely too green for all of this. 

She’s all too aware of all the lovers that must have shared Cat’s bed over the years, each and every one surely proficient in a way that she can’t be, and is scared that the woman’s infatuation will wear off as soon as she realizes she knows nothing but the theory of it. 

“Kara.” Cat sits up and places gentle hands at the dip of her waist, “look at me, dear.” 

There’s a weird note caught in the back of Cat’s throat that pulls Kara’s head up until their gazes tangle. 

“It will be fine.” Cat murmurs when she’s sure she has her attention, before leaning in to place a kiss over her heart. Kara wonders if she can feel it thump under her lips, the same way she can hear Cat’s roar inside her ears without having to try. 

Their rhythm matches she realizes, one picking up the beat the moment the other’s quiet, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to slot in place and fit to form a bigger picture.

Cat’s hands pull her down again - rather, they guide her - and Kara’s fall is more than willing. The first brush of her length against her lover’s slicked folds is bliss, and she cries out Cat’s name, her mind a forest fire.

She grinds down more insistently, the moment of relief stretching into agony as she strains against a need that urges her on without regard for her own strength. 

Hands that could snap metal flail for something, anything that she can hold onto, and close with the warning groan of creaking wood around the headboard of the bed.  

What prevents her from sinking her fingers clear through the polished wood is Cat’s hand reaching down between them to close around her cock. The hold is firm, steadying and, just as words of thanks come to Kara’s mind, Cat does  _ something _ and Kara feels the tip push against her lover’s entrance. 

Cat raises her legs to bracket her, ankles locking at the small of Kara’s back, and she can only sink down further into the embrace. 

And slowly sink inside her. 

“ _ Rao _ …” Kara wails the moment Cat’s wet heat closes around her. She’s lost for words, entirely consumed, but her body seems to know what she should do next.

Which is to pull her hips back until she’s dragging herself out almost completely, only to spear forward the next breath. Cat moans her name, lower body lifting in encouragement as her arms at once protect and cradle Kara against her chest. Fervent kisses are pressed along her brow and down her jawline, the reassuring whispers that Cat pours into her ear mounting in pitch and breathlessness as Kara ups the pace on instinct. 

“Just like that,” Cat whimpers and her fingers dig into Kara’s back at a particularly deep thrust, “God, you feel so good Kara.” 

Kara wants to return the words, the greedy clench of Cat’s muscles around her shaft the most intimate, vulnerable thing she’s ever felt. But she can’t, her throat and mouth too dry for speech, and so she lets her actions do the talking. She can tell that Cat is close, from the way she clamps around her every time that she pulls back, from the sweat that leaves her collarbone in rivulets to pool inside her navel. 

She takes and takes as roughly as she dares, acutely aware of the contours of Cat’s rib cage grating into her own when she slams forward. 

Body electric, Cat stiffens under her, and it’s all the warning Kara has before her lover comes undone around her, trapping her so viciously within the channel of her body that she halts mid thrust, quivering and fretful. 

Her hands clench in time with Cat’s release and the bed creaks again. 

Ominously. 

“Don’t you dare stop!” Cat’s voice whips across her back, fingers futilely scraping at skin too impervious to be gouged. 

“But… the bed…” Kara stammers, hips faltering to an uneven tempo.

“ _ Screw _ the bed.” Cat growls and cups her face, the tenderness in which she handles her robbing the words of any edge. “I want you to come inside me, Kara.” 

That does it, and what little is left of her frayed self-control flies out the window along with reason. Kara grasps the headboard for dear life, aware that her fingers are leaving deep grooves in the wood. She is past caring, the heat of Cat’s core around her annihilating every other thought but that of her release. 

“My good girl.” Cat praises her and proceeds to set her nerves on fire with each subsequent word. It’s like she knows where Kara’s inner dynamite is stored - and how to set it off. Following Cat’s instructions, Kara doesn’t stop again, trying to ignore the now visible fissures webbing the wood under her hands. Her rhythm slows, not from lack of stamina, but the moment she realizes from looking into Cat’s eyes that her lover will come again when she does. 

Kara tortures her with each slow stroke, the way she sheathes so perfectly within Cat each time she bottoms out filling her with so much awe that she forgets to breathe. 

It’s a good thing to be built the way she is, she manages to think wryly, but even Supergirl needs air after a while, and she lets out a shuddering exhale, the edge of her release so sharp against the roof of her mouth that she tastes blood. 

Frantically she searches for something else to anchor her and Cat, perhaps noting the panicked roll of her eyes, grasps the back of her head roughly, guiding Kara’s mouth towards her chest.

A pebbled nipple grazes her lips and Kara latches on, suckling and worrying it between her teeth as blazing flames envelop her lower spine.

Pressure builds at her temples and lower belly, and she has no time to prepare herself before she is swept away by an orgasm so soul-shaking that her hands rip the headboard in two. Her scream of release mingles with a choked-out yelp as the bed caves with a groan, depositing them and the mattress on the floor somewhat unceremoniously. 

She wouldn’t be surprised if the resulting crash is heard throughout the city.

Cat’s lips find her pulse and nip, her lover coming again with a shudder. Kara can’t feel past the fluttering of Cat’s muscles all along her shaft, and she is milked of her release until it tapers off.

Then some. 

They collapse in a tangle of quaking limbs and laughter, Cat’s amused chuckles drowning out the apologies that flood from Kara in a river as soon as she can speak again. 

“It was kind of hot to be honest.” She shrugs, ignoring Kara’s frown, “although I am sure the neighbours are less amused.” 

“Mmmh.” Kara replies somewhat muffled from where she sprawls atop her. She tries to move off, pull out, but Cat’s hands hold her in place.

“Stay like this a while?” It’s the tone, the closest to pleading she’s ever heard from Cat Grant that stops her, and Kara acquiesces against her chest. 

The heating system clicks off, and in the sudden quiet Kara notes that it stopped raining. 

Unthinkingly, she points it out. 

“Do you still want me to call you that cab?” Cat’s soft question catches her entirely off guard and Kara lifts her cheek from where she’s been resting, finding a vulnerable look waiting for her. 

“I’d rather stay, if that’s ok with you.” Of course Kara means the night, but also something more that she can’t quite verbalize. What she knows without a shade of doubt, is that she feels safe in Cat’s arms and in her bed. 

She thinks she’s found a place where it’s natural and fine to be vulnerable.

Where it’s  _ allowed _ . 

Kara doesn’t want to name it love yet, because it’s way early for that, but there’s definitely a spark of something between them, and she wonders if Cat can feel it too. 

The slow smile brightening her lover’s eyes gives her the answer. 

“Good.” Cat pulls a blanket towards them, ducking her head to mask a yawn, “and I believe shopping for a sturdier bed tomorrow is in order. Don’t you?” 

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on TUMBLR for more stories and exclusive content](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/)


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